A story not often told
by autobotgirl12328
Summary: A child who's been beaten and the hope ripped from him. How does he end up to be what he has become? Through more pain, great things lost, and strong hope...
1. A child unwanted

A story not often told

Chapter 1: A child unwanted

He sat in the corner of the cold room. The door stood across from him. It was much warmer on the other side of the door. He'd already tried to open it. It was locked. He could try to knock it down, but he was too weak to do such. He was beaten a few times before being locked in the room. He stared at it, knowing eventually a familiar face would enter in a poor temper.

The door clicked, the lock being lifted. The youngling pushed himself further into the corner. He didn't want the bot to enter. He was afraid. The door swung open. An angry looking bot stood in the doorway. The youngling closed his optics tight, hoping the other would not see him.

"Get up you unfortunate child!" ordered the bot.

The youngling struggled to get up. He found no point in get up when the other bot knocked him right back over. The youngling hit the ground hard, the other bot hovering over him. The youngling looked up wearily.

"You little runt! You good for nothing youngling!" snapped the bot.

"I'm trying though! I'm trying!" gasped the youngling.

"Shut up! You were supposed to be at school cycles ago!" yelled the bot.

"I was locked in…you're the one who locked the door! I couldn't…"

"You couldn't what? You couldn't do anything? You're useless! Now get to your studies before I finally grow tired of you," huffed the bot.

The youngling slowly got to his feet and moved out of the room. He moved slowly down the halls. They were warm. He enjoyed that. They were bright. He liked that too. He left the building he kept believing was his home. He picked up his pace. He ran to the building down the road. A school building.

"Hello?" the youngling whispered, opening the door to the class room.

"Oh, I thought you wouldn't make it," the femme bot by the board purred.

"I…I was kept," the youngling mumbled.

"Don't tell me he locked you in again…" hummed the femme bot.

"Don't worry. He…he only hates it when I do nothing…" the youngling whispered.

"Come here, we'll start our lesson now," the femme nodded.

"Ms. Redmoon…" mumbled the youngling.

"What?" asked the femme teacher.

"Why do you insist of trying to teach me…little no name," sighed the youngling.

"He hasn't given you a name yet!?" gasped Redmoon.

"It's okay. Will you answer my question?" asked the youngling.

"You're really…bright. You have a great thought processor if you'd use it. You've learned so much. You've learned and could use it if that nasty guardian of yours didn't lock you up…" explained Redmoon.

"To…the lesson now," offered the youngling.

"Not until you have a name," smiled Redmoon.

"Really?" gasped the youngling.

"Sure…now I have a question also. What do you want to be with the knowledge you've gained?" Redmoon asked.

"A scientist of course!" cheered the youngling.

"Hmmm…" hummed the teacher.

"Did you know that the word Preceptor means teacher or rather a medicine specialist sometimes?" questioned the youngling.

"Perceptor…perfect!" nodded Redmoon.

"Huh?" gasped the youngling.

"From here on out, you'll be Perceptor," smiled Redmoon.

"I guess…I mean it sounds perfect for a youngling who wants to become a scientist," nodded the youngling, pondering his new name.

"Now to the lesson…Perceptor," smiled Redmoon.


	2. hidden behind himself

A story not often told

Chapter 2: hidden behind himself

The room was cold. He was getting used to it by now. The room was familiar to him. The small data pad in his hands was freezing. His hands were scared. His face was cut. His body was battered. He ignored the great pain he felt. He was smiling. He finally had a name. He was happy to be known as something. Perceptor. What a new name!

Outside, behind the door, he heard the clattering of metal and the slamming of doors. Then the door before him clattered. He heard the locks lift. The door was thrown open. Too much energon again. The older mech stumbled in. The mech gave Perceptor an angry look. Perceptor gasped as he was lifted by his neck.

His feet dangled from the ground. His hands stung, trying to grasp the hands around his throat. The sharp pain running through him was too much. His optics shut. He couldn't withstand it. The pain. The trouble. Was he ever going to stop?

"Where have you been!?" snapped the old mech.

"I…you locked me in…don't…don't you…recall?" stuttered Perceptor.

"Don't give me excuses!" ordered the bot.

"It wasn't an excuse…it was a logical reason…" gasped Perceptor.

"Don't give me that! What are you doing, boy?" snapped the bot.

"I'm studying," Perceptor answered.

"That stupid teacher…what's her name!? What's she teaching you!?" the elder huffed.

"She's teaching me new words, math, physics…that kind of stuff," explained Perceptor.

The elder dropped the youngling on the floor. Perceptor could hardly understand the world around him. He tilted his head up at the elder. The elder looked at him angrily. Perceptor lost all interest to please him.

"What do you want from me!? What do you want from Redmoon!?" sobbed Perceptor.

"Do not snap at me boy!" ordered the elder.

"You push me around like garbage!" Perceptor cried. "Why do you hate me!? I try to please you and you merely try to exterminate me!"

"Shut it child!" ordered the elder.

"Child? I have a name now…no thanks to you!" sobbed Perceptor.

Perceptor was pushed back in the freezing room. Perceptor ran for the door. It closed in his face. He placed his hands on the cold door. He slowly slipped down along the door. He fell to his knees on the cold floor. He let his head rest on the door frame.

"What did I do to deserve this…" Perceptor hissed.

Perceptor crawled back to where his data pad was. He needed something else on his mind. He looked over the data pad. He was only supposed to go to the fifth page. He was on page four. He frowned. After finishing page five, he kept reading. He went through the whole data pad before he finally heard the door click. The lock had been undone.

"Perceptor?"

"Ms. Redmoon?" Perceptor gasped.

She stood in the doorway. She looked worried. Perceptor slowly stood up. The data pad slipped from his hands as he ran to the teacher. He hugged her. She looked so sad as if the worst thing had happened. She kneeled down so she was eye level with him.

"Why are you here?" Perceptor asked, looking into her optics.

"Perceptor…" she whispered, "I'm sorry but.."

"What?" Perceptor gasped.

"Your guardians not here anymore…he's been gone for cycles. Didn't you know that?" she hummed.

"He always leaves for a long time. Usually he'll come back around the next day…" Perceptor explained.

"He's not coming back this time…He left you. He stopped by my room and said he wasn't coming back…" explained Redmoon.

"No…no, he wouldn't leave…" Perceptor gasped, shaking his head.

"I'm…sorry," sighed Redmoon.

Perceptor couldn't believe it. His guardian may not have loved him or treated him well, but he was someone he was familiar with. He still felt cared for. He still felt loved in an odd sense. How could this have happened? Why did he deserve this!?


	3. A fate unforgettable

A story not often told

Chapter 3: A fate unforgettable

Perceptor sat on the floor. He didn't understand. Why had his guardian left? Perceptor had blocked his thoughts about it. He had read each data pad in the library. He learned all sorts of stuff. Still the thoughts lingered. He sat in the room, the data pads circled around him, with memories replaying in his head.

"Why…why would you leave? I wasn't…I wasn't bad! I kept trying to please you! Why'd you leave me…?" sobbed Perceptor.

Redmoon had left to get something for him. He'd been hungry so she probably went out for food. She'd been gone for cycles. He was beginning to worry she wasn't coming back either. He heard the door opened. Then he heard a crash.

He was on his feet as fast as he could. He ran through the halls till he reached the front door. Redmoon laid on the floor. He gasped and ran up to her. He kneeled beside her. He shook her side, hoping she'd wake up.

"Ms. Redmoon…are you okay!?" pleaded Perceptor.

"Hello…sweetie," she whispered.

"What's wrong!? What happened?" Perceptor gasped.

"I'll…I'll be fine," she gasped.

"You're sick…Your symptoms! You've been poisoned!" Perceptor explained.

"I'm sorry, Ceptor. I'm so…so very sorry," nodded Redmoon.

"You'll be fine! I know how to treat this…I gotta know!" shouted Perceptor.

"Sometimes…knowledge can't save everything…" whispered Redmoon.

"It has to save you at least!" sobbed Perceptor.

"He…he doesn't want you to…know…" she began mumbling.

"Who?" Perceptor asked.

"The man who poisoned me…Dark…Dark reaper…" she finished.

Perceptor watched her freeze. She didn't move any more. She was gone. He wouldn't forget that name. Dark Reaper. He poisoned her. Perceptor made a small promise to himself. He wouldn't let this happen again. He'd learn enough to not watch another friend of his die in front of him. He wouldn't let this fall upon a familiar face.

Memories have a way of haunting a sole. This was a moment unforgettable. He needed to forget but he couldn't. He remembered the first day. He'd wandered in after his guardian had ordered him to find a teacher. He'd been taught many things since then.

"Why…Why do these things keep happening to me!!!" shouted Perceptor.

A/N

Question: Should we take a leap forward to current TV show Ceptor which I was going to make into a different story _**or**_ just keep with him being little which not much will happen cause I'm not sure what to do…whatever.


	4. Public School

A story not often told

Chapter 4: Public school

"What a drag…" groaned Perceptor, looking up at the large building.

Perceptor had no other choice. The medics that had taken Redmoon away offered this place. He wasn't used to public places. He had already been signed up by the medics. He moved for the entrance with a heavy sigh. At the entrance he was morphed into the crowd of others.

"Where in all of Cybertron am I going?" groaned Perceptor, backing to the wall.

"The office is down the north wing. Classes are in west and south," explained a voice elsewhere.

Perceptor turned to see a new face. A bot around the same age as Perceptor, a youngling. He was many white with red here and there. He had an odd smile, a familiar smile still. It was a friendly smile. Perceptor couldn't help but reply to the smile with a smile.

"So where are you heading?" he asked.

"Oh…um…I guess the office but I'm not really sure of anything around here," groaned Perceptor.

"New student?" asked the bot.

"Sorta…I've never been to a public school like this…" Perceptor explained.

"What's your name?" questioned the bot.

"Is this like 20 questions?" Perceptor chuckled. "Names…um…"

"What is it?" the bot gasped.

"It's kind of a long story but the names Perceptor," Perceptor answered.

"Preceptor?" hummed the bot.

"**Per**Ceptor! Per!" shouted Perceptor.

"Right, right. Names Ratchet," the bot nodded.

"Nice. Now about where to go?" chuckled Perceptor.

"Right, follow me," nodded Ratchet, walking off.

He seems…friendly, thought Perceptor as he followed Ratchet. Perceptor felt he needed to know a little bit more. It was becoming an obsession. He needed to know much more than was probably healthy. He ignored it though. He was more concerned with Ratchet's good nature and the school's learning system. He was ready for anything.


	5. The weakest link

A story not often told

Chapter 5: The weakest link

"So the chemicals will eventually form…" started the teacher.

"The energy substance that power most of the buildings and machinery," Perceptor finished with yawn.

The teacher grumbled, looking back at the data pad. Perceptor, sitting in the third new homeroom he was given, was bored with the lesson. The teacher was equally as thrilled with him. Even at his young age, he was placed at such a high grade that still made him bored.

"Sir…please stop interrupting me!" ordered the teacher.

"If your lessons were more interesting then I wouldn't finish your sentences," shrugged Perceptor.

"Leave! Now!" ordered the teacher.

Perceptor sighed. Fourth time in a row. He got up from his seat and left the room. He moved down the halls. Passing each room he heard voices. He sighed. He saw no point in these schools. He was also annoyed by how much he knew. He only read that whole library. It wasn't much, right.

Crash! Boom! Perceptor jumped, falling backward slightly. He looked around. Nothing was on fire. Nothing that he could see. Finally he saw smoke coming from another room. Perceptor moved to the room. He opened the door, smoke pouring out.

"Oops…" a voice whispered.

"Oops?" questioned Pereptor.

"Who's there!?" gasped the voice.

"New student…Perceptor," explained Perceptor happily.

After the smoke cleared, Perceptor caught a glimpse of the person inside. Another child the same age as him but he was covered in soot. He was pushing off the soot slowly, looking over at Perceptor.

"Whatcha need?" the other bot nodded.

"What happened?" Perceptor gasped.

"Oh…I blew up my project yet again," the bot answered, "Names Wheeljack."

"Well Wheeljack, what were you working on?" Perceptor asked, lifting up one of the metals. It fell to pieces in his hands. He gasped.

"People say I have a…explosive touch," nodded Wheeljack.

Wheeljack was white like Ratchet. He had black and green hints here and there. He had a face guard with small fins sticking out the side that glowed with the words he said. Perceptor shook his head, watching Wheeljack trying to piece things together.

"I think you'd have a better chance by placing these pieces here," nodded Perceptor, placing two different pieces in his hands.

"Thanks!" cheered Wheeljack.

"Perceptor?"

Perceptor and Wheeljack turned to see Ratchet in the doorway. Ratchet looked very upset. Perceptor could see that he wasn't supposed to be talking to Wheeljack. He didn't understand that. Ratchet frowned and stormed in.

"Oh…Hi, Ratchet," groaned Wheeljack.

"Come on Perceptor," ordered Ratchet.

"Why? I was going to help Wheeljack with his project," explained Perceptor.

"You were!?" gasped Wheeljack and Ratchet.

"Yeah. I think this could work with some help…if I knew what it was," chuckled Perceptor.

"A cloaking devise," added Wheeljack.

"Are you serious? Wheeljack is in the lower class! You can't hang with him if you want your status to stay as new student," grumbled Ratchet.

"He's right. I'm not very popular…got no friends," sighed Wheeljack.

"Then I'll be the first!" announced Perceptor. The two gave him weird looks.

"No way," whispered Wheeljack.

"If I've learned anything from the past few days is that there are reasons things happen. I think what I've gone through led to this," nodded Perceptor.

"How can anything lead to befriending a lower class?" huffed Ratchet.

"Don't tell me what leads to this! I've lost my guardian and the only friend I've ever known!" shouted Perceptor, storming out.

He found himself on the roof. He was lying on his back. He felt ashamed for yelling and losing his temper the way he had. He closed his optics. Everything happened for something right, he thought. No, he corrected himself. There had to be a logical sense to everything, he thought with a sigh. He still had that creeping thought that haunted him. the face of his old teacher while she died.


	6. A new friendship

A story not often told

Chapter 6: a new friendship

Perceptor hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He had woken to the sound of the bells. He was gasping, panting at the nightmare he had. The past. He remembered being locked in the freezer and his guardian beating him. the memories was nightmares. He would only remember them as that.

"Perceptor!" shouted two voices.

"Huh?" gasped Perceptor, sitting up.

He smiled lightly seeing who finally came running onto the roof. Both Wheeljack and Ratchet were coming up. Perceptor smiled lightly. Ratchet smiled, running toward him. Wheeljack waited near the edge of the roof.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," cheered Ratchet.

"We're sorry," Wheeljack added.

"We didn't know what happened before you got here," sighed Ratchet.

"I just met you so…" shrugged Wheeljack.

"I met you this morning so…" chuckled Ratchet.

"Well…I had no right to yell at either of you. My actions were irrational," sighed Perceptor.

"I heard you got kicked up like three grading scales," hummed Ratchet.

"Maybe," smirked Perceptor.

"Welcome to the club," nodded Wheeljack.

"Really?" gasped Perceptor.

"I'm up two grades and Ratchet is up about one grade," Wheeljack explained.

"Three…two…one…perfect," chuckled Perceptor.

"What's perfect?" asked Ratchet.

"We are…no matter what," smiled Perceptor.

"I like the way you think," nodded Wheeljack.

"Sure…We work pretty well. Now how about that cloaking devise?" Ratchet cheered.

"Let's get to work!" added Perceptor, smiling lightly.


	7. A few years afterward

A story not often told

Chapter 7: A few years afterward

"Are you sure this will work, Ceptor?" Ratchet asked, sounding very skeptical.

"Positive. The past cycles of improvement on this solitary assignment should pay off right about now," nodded Perceptor.

"You've been reading the dictionary again…" chuckled Wheeljack.

"Expansion of my terminology will assist in my education," Perceptor accepted.

"We'll all learn new words each day from you," added Ratchet, fiddling with the equipment.

"So, Mr. Medic, we're all ready for this presentation?" Wheeljack asked, snapping in a wire.

"Don't call me Mr. Medic! I'm not a medic yet. I'm working on it with you two 'round," huffed Ratchet.

"Are you two still quarrelling over irrelative concepts? Why do I bother with you two?" groaned Perceptor.

"Irrelative, maybe, but they keep the conversations up," shrugged Wheeljack.

"We ready or not?" snapped Perceptor to them both.

"Medical equipment ready," Ratchet answered.

"Project ready…but you may want to check it over again," Wheeljack groaned.

"You need to have more faith in yourself, Jack," sighed Perceptor, getting up from his chair to examine the project once more.

The project was first constructed back when they first met. The cloaking devise that Wheeljack had tried to work all those cycles ago. The object was similar to that of a piece of armor. It could fit on your shoulder or possible on the leg. It was designed to rearrange the molecules so it appeared you had vanished. At least in Perceptor's plan.

"Everything looks fine to me," Perceptor smiled.

"Ready for anything! Let's get this party started!" cheered Ratchet.

"Looks like grumpy pants has more emotions than originally thought," chuckled Perceptor.

"And Mr. Big Words has a smaller vocab," hissed Ratchet.

"The presentation begins soon. We need to move…eventually," sighed Wheeljack.

"Sometimes you're a real slacker," groaned Perceptor.

"Your point?" chuckled Wheeljack.

Perceptor enjoyed his friends. Ratchet had that serious sense, one that could take control of even the strongest willed. Wheeljack was confused and fun loving. He liked to fiddle with things. If not…well, it wasn't happy memories for Perceptor, Ratchet or the teacher that was sent to the med bay for a few solar cycles.

"We'll be waiting for you, Ceptor," nodded Ratchet and Wheeljack as they marched off.

Perceptor watched them march off with the project underneath a veil. Perceptor was happy with the project. They had worked very hard on it. A forever many solar cycles. Perceptor didn't tell them everything though, he regretted sadly. He was afraid to tell them about his past. He didn't tell them about the freezer or being beaten. He didn't tell them about his old teacher's murder either.

"Sure I trust them…but something still haunts me," Perceptor whispered to himself. "My teacher…Ms. Redmoon…had said someone didn't want me to know something. Dark Reaper…"

Perceptor lifted some of the data pads. Everything seemed perfect. He knew nothing was perfect. Nothing was in stone. Perceptor was certain everything had happened for a reason but everything now-a-days, after the loss of his teacher, he wasn't sure of much. He shook his head. He hated such negative thoughts. He gathered his things and moved toward the door to catch up with his friends.


	8. Blast from a forgotten past

A story not often told

Chapter 8: Blast from a forgotten past

Perceptor stood in between Ratchet and Wheeljack. He was slightly nervous. He'd never finished a project like this. He'd never been talking in front of a crowd either. He felt so scared and nervous. He was cursing out his emotions quietly. His emotions had pulled so much from him. He shook his head. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Perceptor, you okay?" asked Ratchet quietly. "You look terrible."

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I was sick," whispered Perceptor.

"No, I wouldn't. You've waited a long time for this, Ceptor. You'll be fine," nodded Ratchet.

"Crowds aren't my favorite thing in the world," gulped Perceptor.

"I can see that," chuckled Ratchet.

"We're here for ya," Wheeljack added.

Perceptor looked out at the crowd. Some many faces, which means so many people, thought Perceptor. He moved his optics over the crowd. Suddenly his gaze on the crowd stopped on a sole person. His mouth hung open slowly. He didn't know who he was but a haunting feeling sunk into him. His spark ached with old memories and familiar loss.

An older bot stood in the back of the crowd. A dark mask was placed over his face. His color scheme was black and purple. His optics were purple. It was haunting. He never saw the face before, but it haunted him none the less. The bot moved out from the back and toward the back stage. Perceptor, not knowing he was doing such, stumbled backward. Ratchet caught him.

"Perceptor are you okay!?" gasped Ratchet.

"F-f-fine," stuttered Perceptor.

"Dude you look even worse," mumbled Wheeljack.

"Just…I guess a ghost. It's nothing worth worrying about," huffed Perceptor, standing up straight.

'_I tried to warn you, child. You didn't heed it, I am ashamed. I thought the death of your teacher would distract you long enough…'_

"Huh…?" whispered Perceptor.

'_What a fool you are. Even with your high IQ, you're slow to learning.'_

"What's…I'm going to get some air. I promise to be back before the speech," nodded Perceptor, marching off.

"Perceptor! Come back!" ordered Ratchet but it was no use.

Perceptor moved away from the stage. He was getting a little stressed, that was all. He shook his head and leaned against the wall. He was just stressing that's all. He looked up. He swore he saw someone in the hall. That similar dark figure. He slipped from his part on the wall. He fell on his back. He panted heavily.

"No…Think logical Perceptor," ordered Perceptor to himself.

"_Logical isn't always the best thinking," hissed a voice_.

"Who's there?" gasped Perceptor.

"_Only little old me. You wouldn't know me though. The last time I saw you, you were a sparkling…" the voice echoed_.

"Get out of my head!" ordered Perceptor, running down another hall.

"_Are you scared? You should be!" the voice bellowed._

Perceptor fell. He hit his side on a bookshelf that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perceptor looked up, sitting up, slowly. The shadows were creeping in, he felt it. His spark ached. There was no turning back. Something-or somebody-was haunting him. he closed his optics tight and screamed. He soon heard the echo of footsteps.

"_Now…now…That's cheating," cursed the voice._

"Leave…leave me alone!" sobbed Perceptor.

"_Don't cry, sweetie."_

"Ms…Ms. Redmoon?" Perceptor whispered. The world was going to round him, fuzzing in and out.

"Ceptor…" the echoing of his friends' voices.

"Ms. Redmoon…" whispered Perceptor, falling back to the ground again. This time he had fainted.


	9. A fading memory

A story not often told

Chapter 9: A fading memory

Perceptor woke up in a bright room. He hadn't realized what had happened, he just knew he was in his dorm room. Wasn't I in the halls? Perceptor had thought. He looked around. The door was open. He looked as hard as he could to see if his friends were in the room. He could see much further than the door.

"Perceptor! You're up!" gasped a familiar voice.

"Ratchet?" whispered Perceptor.

"What happened?" asked Wheeljack.

"I'm not sure…I swore someone was talking to me. I swore it was…was my old teacher," whispered Perceptor.

"Your old teacher?" gasped Ratchet. "You mean the one that was…"

"Yes. I don't know what happened. I swore she was talking to me," Perceptor answered.

"She wasn't Ceptor. You know that right," Ratchet asked.

Perceptor paused. He wasn't sure. His logic was fading in and out. Was she there or wasn't she? He shook his head. Ratchet took that as an answer and left with Wheeljack. Perceptor's memory of his former teacher was fading. Or was it? He closed his optics and faded into the past.

"_Now, who do we have here?"_

The memory started with him in the doorway. She was a beautiful looking femme. He wasn't familiar with them. He never knew one before though his guardian had spoke of one that left and that was just like him. He also said she was the reason he always locked Perceptor in the freezer. He didn't understand that. Nothing made much sense.

"_Can you teach me?"_

His quiet, scared voice was almost unrecognizable. He was a small, young, red child. His optics were bright blue. His armor was mostly red with blue armor at the joints. He was so small and sad. Perceptor remembered the scar along his right optic. The memory was slipping into darkness.

"Ms. Redmoon…" he whispered.

"_And what's your name?" she smiled._

"_I don't have one. My guardian hasn't given me one," Perceptor had answered._

"_I'm sure he'll give you one, eventually," she smirked._

She didn't know. She didn't know then that she'd be the one to name him. She didn't know that she'd be the one to act like a guardian to him. She didn't know then. She didn't know that she would die. She was murdered, corrected Perceptor in his thoughts. She may not have known but she was murdered not just dying.

"_Sure…now I have a question also. What do you want to be with the knowledge you've gained?"_

"_A scientist of course!"_

Perceptor opened his optics. The memory was gone. It had faded. If it was gone, why did it still hurt? He sighed. The darkness was shadowing his mind. Someone was playing games with him. He could feel it. The thought faded. He closed his optics once more. Thoughts slowly leaking in while memories faded away.


	10. An unknown start

A story not often told

Chapter 10: An unknown start

Perceptor ran as fast as he could. He was late again. He found these meetings of therapy meaningless and irrelevant. He didn't understand. He'd been going to this as long as he remembered which was his whole memory. He had no memory of his childhood or anything leading to this instance. He wasn't sure how it all led to be but he knew where he was now.

"You're late again, Ceptor!" a familiar voice nodded.

"I'm sorry. Attempting to get my degree is harder than you discern," groaned Perceptor.

"Remember me yet?" the bot asked.

"Nope…not past the original occasion I met you after waking up," shrugged Perceptor.

"Right. Now, what's my name?" asked the bot.

"Um…Ratchet, right?" mumbled Perceptor.

"Right. You ready for the test yet?" Ratchet questioned.

"What test?" Perceptor hummed, sitting in the chair beside Ratchet's.

"The academy test! Don't you remember…there's a war going on Perceptor!" gasped Ratchet.

"He doesn't remember that. I don't," chuckled Wheeljack, entering and standing behind Perceptor.

"Greetings, Wheeljack," nodded Perceptor.

"I hear this Optimus Prime bot is giving away position in his army. They're known as the Autobots," Wheeljack explained.

"You've been chatting with folks you shouldn't," hissed Ratchet.

"Party pooper," huffed Wheeljack.

"I consider it'd be cool to join," Perceptor whispered.

"Really?" gasped Wheeljack and Ratchet.

"We have nothing better to do, guys. You two have your degrees. After I get mine, what do we have left here?" inquired Perceptor.

"He has a point," nodded Wheeljack.

"I know that. We should sign up," Ratchet sighed.

"After Ceptor here gets his degree," added Wheeljack, shaking Perceptor's side.

"Right, but you two sign up anyway. You two need something better to do than looking after me," smiled Perceptor.

"But…" Wheeljack gaped.

"We're all like brothers," continued Ratchet.

"We wouldn't leave one behind," finished Wheeljack.

"You two need an existence beyond me! I won't let you waste your life here on me!" shouted Perceptor.

"Ceptor?" Ratchet whispered.

"I don't remember how we came to be friends like this but…" whimpered Perceptor.

"Don't worry, Perceptor. We'll sign up but we will decline if we're supposed to leave before you have your degree…" answered Ratchet.

"Right," agreed Wheeljack.

"Let it be," Perceptor whispered.

"Perceptor, don't worry about us. Our job is to worry about you," huffed Wheeljack with a quiet chuckle.

"That's what I'm afraid of," sighed Perceptor.


	11. A haunting dream

A story not often told

Chapter 11: A haunting dream

Perceptor groaned. He was having trouble during recharge. It was like a haunting memory. He didn't remember it though. A dream, that's what he renamed it. The dream crept in and stayed, dragging into the hours of the night.

Darkness surrounded him. He felt cold. It was odd. He hadn't felt cold anywhere else. He seemed very used to the cold that he simply stopped feeling it. He never understood. He looked around, hoping to find anyone.

An evil chuckle echoed. It was…recognizable. Familiar. Yet, forgettable. Perceptor felt scared all the same. The echo seeped deep into his soul. He shivered, looking around hastily. He felt a cold hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be forgetting me so soon, child," hissed a voice.

Perceptor gasped. The voice was an echo in a memory. A memory he no longer had. He collapsed. He couldn't move. Darkness seeped in every crack of his being. His mind was slipping. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't remember. Everything was slipping. A familiar slipping. He remembered!

Perceptor gasped remembering this feeling. The feeling faded then returned then faded once more. The same voice hissed around him. He couldn't handle it. He felt like screaming but nothing sounded. No voice exited him. He couldn't scream for help. He couldn't call for his friends. His friends…who were they again?

"No!" finally something came from him.

He refused to forget. Slowly things pieced together. He remembered meeting Ratchet. He remembered falling into meeting Wheeljack. He remembered almost everything. His childhood vanished from reach. He heard one last thing before waking. His name. His name from such a sweet and familiar voice.

"Perceptor!" called the voice.

Perceptor sat up quickly. He was in his dorm room. It was the dead of night. He was panting hard. The memories. Perceptor smiled lightly. He leaped from the bed and ran from the room. 211. 212.213. 214! Perceptor stopped at Ratchet's room door. He knocked hard but quietly, hoping only to gather Ratchet's attention and no others. He waited as patiently as he could, which wasn't much. Finally the door opened, revealing a tired Ratchet.

"Ceptor…what are-" Ratchet began.

"I remember!" Perceptor couldn't resist saying.

It took a while for Ratchet to get the picture. Then he perked up and let Perceptor in. Ratchet closed the door and turned to light on. Perceptor felt very strange. Two life memories were joining and it was startling not only his mind but his spark.

"What do you mean, remember?" Ratchet gasped.

"I met you on my first day of public school. You led me to the office!" explained Perceptor with a smile. "I met Wheeljack the same day. He was working on that cloaking device…"

"Wow. How far back is this memory?" questioned Ratchet, curiously.

"I…I remember only far back to walking to the school…nothing further," answered Perceptor.

"Weird…" shrugged Ratchet, "But at least your memories this far."

"I…I almost forgot again though," admitted Perceptor.

"Oh?" Ratchet hummed.

"I remember…almost forgetting who you were…who Wheeljack was," groaned Perceptor, covering his face. He was losing his thoughts again.

"Don't worry. You do remember that your test is this morning," chuckled Ratchet.

"Don't you forget that your Autobot test is this afternoon," nodded Perceptor.

"Then you'll be stopping by also," added Ratchet, opening the door again.

"Maybe. If I have time…and if I remember," smiled Perceptor, leaving the room.

"Goodnight, Ceptor," whispered Ratchet, closing the door behind his friend.

Perceptor stood in the dark hall for a while. His smile was long gone. He recalled the forgetting. It was terrible. He realized again how he liked to know things. He sighed at his obsession. He smiled again, though, with a feeling that this was the end of a chapter in his life. If not now really soon. He started to his room again.


	12. Interview

A story not often told

Chapter 12: Interview

Perceptor was nervous enough after the test, waiting his grade, but now waiting with his friends for the Autobot interview was way too much stress on him. He was ready to go into statis. Ratchet and Wheeljack were patiently waiting, happy it seemed. Perceptor was having a panic attack.

"You look as bad as the day we were going to show the cloaking device," whispered Ratchet.

"I feel twice as worse," admitted Perceptor.

"Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine," added Wheeljack.

The line shuffled forward. Wheeljack disappeared in the room. It was his turn to be interviewed. Perceptor had realized that those who went in didn't come out. He was worried he'd be the first to come out. He was afraid to fail. He knew so much though. War wasn't one of the things he knew.

"It'll be okay. You'll do fine," nodded Ratchet, leaving for the room.

Perceptor stood alone. He sighed. Nothing seemed right. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't! He was ready to leave. Someone nudged him from behind. He turned around. At first he only noticed the long line behind him, which tortured his soul. Then he looked down to see a tiny bot. he seemed so eager.

"I'm so close!" the bot cheered quietly.

"Aren't you a little-" Perceptor started.

"Small to do this!? I know. So what. No one's perfect," huffed the bot.

"Right," chuckled Perceptor.

"I may be small but it doesn't mean I can't help. What's your name?" the bot asked cheerfully.

"I'm…Perceptor. You are?" whispered Perceptor.

"Bumblebee! I'm ready!" he bounced.

Perceptor felt welcomed. He looked forward, only to realize that it was his turn. He stepped forward, into the room. He sat down, losing all worries. He noted Bumblebee. The young bot was ready for anything. He knew if a young bot like that was ready he should be too. He kept the negative thoughts in a cage within his mind and let the good thoughts flow. He welcomed them.

"Welcome," a new bot smiled, standing by the opposite door.

Perceptor smiled and answered the welcome with a hello. The conversation continued. Perceptor didn't hesitate at any question. He was ready for anything.


	13. A new chapter

A story not often told

Chapter 13: A new chapter

Perceptor looked out. Cybertron seemed much brighter. He looked back. Ratchet was off to the side. Wheeljack was preparing for a mission with another Autobot. Autobot. Perceptor smiled at that name. He had the title officially now. So did those around him. He turned forward.

Wheeljack was coming out with a familiar face. Bumblebee had also made the team. That pleased Perceptor. Wheeljack and Bumblebee were supposed to go to an old building that still had some energy conductors. While Wheeljack left to get more coordinates, Bumblebee stopped to wave. Perceptor waved back.

"So, Ceptor, you happy with this?" Ratchet asked coming up from behind.

"I never imaged this, especially during a civil war," chuckled Perceptor.

"I have to go to the med bay," Ratchet sighed.

"How does it feel to finally be a medic?" asked Perceptor.

"Medic is fine, **war** medic is worrisome," Ratchet admitted.

Perceptor chuckled quietly but didn't hear Ratchet leave. Ratchet patted his friend's shoulder and Perceptor shook his head. Ratchet was going to ask a similar question to the one he asked.

"How does it feel to be that scientist you always wanted to be?" Ratchet whispered.

"Great. I never imaged this. I heard the construction of the Ark is finished…" Perceptor added.

"Yeah. Prime thinks that we need to search elsewhere for energon sources. He hopes an uninhabited planet," Ratchet explained.

"The Decepticons will follow," whispered Perceptor.

"What else do you expect?" Ratchet chuckled, finally leaving.

Perceptor took one last look at the horizon of the planet he'd come to know, love, and fear.

A/N

That's the end for this chapter of his life. A sequel should be made real soon. The sequel should involve Dark Reaper, more of his past and maybe a little more about his family that was whole at one time or another.


End file.
